


trust

by santanico



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi, Other, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-28
Updated: 2013-10-28
Packaged: 2017-12-30 19:13:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1022386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/santanico/pseuds/santanico
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve shoots her another alarmed look. “Calm down,” she says. “It’s a good thing. You’re helping him heal. I’m just…glad it was you.” She bites her lip. “Us. He needs us.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	trust

**Author's Note:**

> probably set sometime post Winter Soldier, which, obviously, hasn't happened yet. Shush, ignore the lack of canonical sense. Just OT3

Natasha kisses down Bucky’s chest. He doesn’t say anything, breath coming in short puffs. Steve doesn’t say anything either, and probably nothing needs to be said.

She touches her hands to his throat and watches his eyes open. She leans down, kisses him, and rests for a moment, her lips pressed to his. She can feel every shadow of breath against her cheek.

She smiles, and he smiles back.

-

Laughter is something gentle. It flushes against the walls of the small bedroom the three of them have been sharing since Bucky’s memories returned. He’s quiet, for the most part, constantly staring at walls. Sometimes he flashes Steve a bitter smile or reaches out with his good arm. Natasha catches Steve’s pained eyes in backwards glances, catches him crouching in front of Bucky and sliding his hands over Bucky’s, as if checking to see that he’s still there.

Natasha pretends not to notice. She may have missed him, but he was Steve’s best friend first and foremost. Maybe forever, if he’s the same.

But he won’t be.

-

“You can’t forget what he’s been through.” Natasha leans back in the bar seat and downs her shot of whiskey. It stings, but no harder than it used to.

Steve shoots her a sharp glare, pursing his lips together. “Don’t say things like that,” he says, fidgeting. He takes a sip of his beer and Natasha shakes her head.

“It’s not like you can even get drunk anymore,” she says, stroking her fingers over her shot glass. “So why bother?”

“It’s a social cue, isn’t it?” Steve glances up, and Natasha notices him watching the bartender serve a couple of other younger adults across the bar. Her gaze follows his and then she picks up her glass, waving it at the bartender. He crosses the small space.

“Another whiskey?”

“Hell yeah.” She can sense Steve’s gaze as she downs the second shot. It burns more the second time down, and she hisses. “Damn.”

 

“He’s been through hell,” is what Steve finally says, straightening up. He’s still big, even sat at a bar surrounded by mostly muscular, older, bearded bikers. A German place. Natasha feels at home with the dim lights and the sense of danger in every corner. She’s small but it’s still sort of amazing, knowing that she could kill everyone in the room – except maybe Steve – in a few moves.

“Well, a frozen hell maybe.” She pauses. “I’m joking.”

“You shouldn’t.”

Natasha rolls her eyes. “He loves you.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means what it means. I don’t exactly know how else to phrase it.” She shakes her head and rests her glass back down on the weakening wood. The bartender is looking at her with an arched eyebrow. She shakes her head slightly at him and he goes back to wiping down tables. “He loves you. His eyes are dull, but they relight when he sees you.”

“I don’t notice that.”

“Of course you don’t. As soon as he hears you enter his expression changes. He smiles, almost. It’s impressive. You’re his best drug.”

Steve shoots her another alarmed look. “Calm down,” she says. “It’s a good thing. You’re helping him heal. I’m just…glad it was you.” She bites her lip. “Us. He needs us.”

Steve is glancing down now, both hands wrapped around his bottle. “I don’t know what to do for him.” He closes his eyes and lets out a sigh. “I’ve never dealt with this kind of thing. He’s done…things he’s going to regret. And he isn’t the Bucky I knew. It’s like looking into a shadow of someone, and recognizing the shape of the person, but not…seeing their face.”

Natasha shrugs. “His face is there. Maybe you aren’t looking hard enough.”

“Do you see his face?”

“If I stare, yeah. He likes when I kiss him.”

Steve hums. “I’ve noticed that. He…smiles.”

“Exactly.”

“Should I try that?”

Natasha laughs. “I don’t know,” she admits, “maybe. Do you think he’d want to kiss you? Do you want to kiss him? Don’t do it if you don’t think it’s right.”

Steve stares at the wall for a moment, brow furrowed. “Maybe.”

“Maybe what?” she says.

“I don’t know.”

“…Let’s go home.”

-

Natasha tries to avoid walking in on them. She knows that Steve values privacy over all, and how much it drives him completely up the wall how being Captain America has basically ruined all sense of privacy for him. He can’t go for a walk without someone analyzing his movements, and Natasha doesn’t want to be guilty of making him even less trustworthy.

It’s not really her fault that she steps into the small bedroom, nestled in an underused hotel in an empty street. It’s not her fault that she catches Steve with his hand nestled on Bucky’s cheek, open mouths pressed together.

She manages to be quiet enough that she closes the door and doesn’t enter until late-late that night, and by that time both Bucky and Steve are asleep, side by side but barely touching.

She doesn’t ask. She doesn’t need to. The same intimacy Natasha had shared with Bucky is now shared between Steve and Bucky.

She smiles at Steve while Bucky’s in the bathroom, and he looks away, face red.


End file.
